


i know it's chemicals (that make me cling to you)

by thinkbucket



Series: Rockstar Universe [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Breakups, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Rockstar AU, Smut, brief drug mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25086061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkbucket/pseuds/thinkbucket
Summary: Yennefer is a rockstar, recently suffering a breakup and gone solo. Tissaia is her manager, and she's really just trying to help her out.
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Rockstar Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883050
Comments: 22
Kudos: 132





	i know it's chemicals (that make me cling to you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mindmypensieve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindmypensieve/gifts).



> prompt requested by mindmypensieve: Rockstar AU + It was just supposed to be a one time thing! + “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else."
> 
> title from St. Patrick by PVRIS, which is totally a song i imagine yennefer singing here. i wrote this to half of their discography tbh

*

As far as breakups go, it could’ve been worse. She could’ve been drunk off her ass every second of the day, or refuse to leave her bed, or do some lines and OD but she’s trying to stay away from drugs because she knows her tendencies, and right now she just wants to get _better_.

But some nights she can’t sleep, she starts panicking, so she listens to his songs to calm her down. Lets his voice relax her until she can breathe again even though it hurts ten times more.

*

She writes a lot of heartbreak songs. 

She sings them like her soul isn’t dying. But she does have to walk out of the studio a few times.

*

Her band manager, well, just her manager now she guesses, since Tissaia followed Yennefer out of The Witchers, asks her to try to write at least _one_ song that doesn’t leave Yennefer with a bottle or fifteen at the end of the night. Tissaia is tired of cleaning up her messes. She wants her to be able to help herself, get her eyes off the guy that broke her heart, and onto literally anything else.

So she writes Tissaia a love ballad, sings it in the glass room while keeping eye contact with her, unwavering, til Tissaia takes a phone call and walks out.

Later, she drags her into the hallway, furious.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Tissaia snaps. “When I said stop singing about Geralt, I didn’t mean for you to start singing about me.”

“You’re so sexy when you’re mad, christ.” Yennefer is so turned on right now. 

“You’re not even listening to me,” Tissaia sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. 

And then, shit, she’s actually walking away. “Wait, come back, I’m listening.”

“No, you’re not. Grow up please,” she storms out.

“How did you know I was singing about you?” she calls after her, but Tissaia is already gone.

*

It’d been a joke, actually, until she realized she really did like Tissaia’s eyes, her body, her _really nice hands_. 

Realized that Tissaia literally followed her off the spectacular success of the band she’d been with for four years, and into the unknown. That there’s a whole lot of paperwork she’s dealing with right now because of canceled contracts and rearranged tour dates.

But Tissaia is just doing her job, and Yennefer’s just the band member that she hated the least. 

  
  


*

She records another breakup song.

Most of her singing borders on screaming.

*

And then there’s a night when she can’t sleep, and instead of listening to Geralt’s voice, she calls Tissaia. Which is a bit unnecessary, sure, since they’re in the same hotel, but she figures it’s better than going and knocking on her door in the middle of the night.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Yennefer says in reply.

“Yennefer? What’s wrong?”

And she doesn’t really know what to say. Because what _is_ wrong? What’s wrong with her? Why did she think this was a good idea?

“Sorry, it was an accident.”

She hangs up.

When Tissaia looks at her a little funny the next day, she ignores it.

*

“You have to get over him,” Tissaia says one day after recording. Yennefer’s head is in her hands, a few beer bottles already lay discarded next to her. 

“Easy for you to say,” Yennefer huffs as she hugs her knees to her chest. Then looks up and says, “I’m getting better.”

“You work yourself into a near breakdown every day.”

“The music _helps_ ,” she argues. Because it does, even if it’s a slow process. 

“Maybe you need to do more than just write songs.”

“Like what?”

Tissaia purses her lips, like she’s thinking something but doesn’t want to say.

“Are you trying to suggest I sleep around to take my mind off Geralt?”

She winces a bit. “That wasn’t going to be my first suggestion, and I wasn’t thinking sleeping _around_. I was going to suggest therapy, or even just talking. But certainly less alcohol.”

“I’m not going to therapy,” Yennefer grouches. And really, fuck Tissaia for telling her what to do and how.

“If you keep this up, you might kill your career before you kill your liver.”

“I dunno, I thought my music has been doing pretty well,” Yennefer counters angrily. “I’ve got an interview next week. My career is only getting _started_.”

“You're consistently late to sessions because of your hangovers, and you have to end early almost every night.”

“Well maybe I’ll find a fuck buddy who can distract me better than alcohol and help me sleep at night, will that make you happy?”

Tissaia rolls her eyes.

  
  


*

They sleep together, one night. 

When they’re both a little intoxicated and really horny, and she knows it’s more of a pity fuck, because Tissaia knows Yen hasn’t seen anyone since Geralt and she’s just been trying to cheer her up, because Yen’s success is directly tied to her own.

They’re stumbling into the hotel room with messy, uncoordinated kisses, wandering hands, stuttered breathing. They can’t even make it to the bed; Yennefer will die if she can’t touch Tissaia right _now_. She slips her hand into Tissaia’s panties, marvels at how wet it is, hears her throaty moan, feels her quivering under her hands, like she’ll shatter or light on fire.

And, god, it’s a lot, it’s a lot, Tissaia whimpering under her touch, gasping her name when Yennefer slips one, two fingers inside of her. The angle is awkward, so after a moment, Tissaia is pushing Yen off so she can kick off her shoes and pants, then drawing her back closer. Yennefer hoists her up against the wall, feels legs wrap around her as she slips her fingers back in, and Geralt never said her name like Tissaia does, like it’s a _prayer_. 

She thrusts her fingers into her, using her hips to push, just a little more, a little rough, and Tissaia is clenching around her fingers so beautifully. Whimpering, begging. “Shhh,” Yennefer whispers into her hair as she continues to fuck her, and the sounds that Tissaia makes could be their own song.

Tissaia’s breath is coming out in ragged gasps, but Yennefer wants to hear them faster. She picks up the pace.

“Shit, shit, Yen,” Tissaia cries into her neck, then hands grasping at her as she comes. “Oh my god, _Yennefer_.”

Hearing her come apart breaks and remakes a part inside of Yennefer. 

She works her through it, fingers gentler now, kisses her slow and so deliciously sweet. Finally she draws her fingers out and lets Tissaia down. And then they move to the bed.

*

She wakes up with a soft body pressed to her own, the curve of a backside fit neatly against her, and an ache between her legs. She hasn’t actually woken up with anyone since - 

No. She’s not even going there.

It’s the first night she’s slept all the way through in weeks. Months. She takes in a deep breath, breathes in Tissaia, and she smells good, so she nuzzles closer. Drunken hookups with people you work with are bound to end awkwardly, but Yennefer just wants some peaceful rest for once. 

She falls back asleep. 

*

The first thing she notices when she wakes is that Tissaia is gone. 

The second is that the shower is running. 

She checks the time, checks Instagram, takes a selfie because she wants to remember the little mark on her neck forever, thinks of what she’s gonna say to Tissaia now. She knows the woman doesn’t believe in fairy tale love, that hookups are not much of an interest to her, but last night...

Yennefer shakes her head. She knows what last night was. They were drunk, they’re both two attractive single women staying in the same hotel, honestly it’s more surprising it took this long to happen. But there’s nothing there, not for Tissaia. She knows. Because the woman just values her job, and she just wants to make sure Yennefer’s needs are being met. 

And for Yennefer —

Yennefer just wants to get over Geralt. She doesn’t care how.

“Morning,” Tissaia says, toweling her hair dry and wrapped in a robe. 

And, wow, like, this isn’t something _new_ , she’s seen her getting ready before, but she’s stunned for just a second. Has she always been this gorgeous? 

Tissaia tilts her head, a bit of worry on her face, before Yennefer realizes she’d said something. “Good morning,” she croaks out, like a dying frog. 

Tissaia doesn’t seem to mind. “You’ve got an interview at eleven so you should probably start getting ready, we can grab coffee on the way. I think they'll have some food but I’m not going to trust their coffee.”

“Good plan,” Yennefer says as she stretches, and damn, Tissaia _really_ did a number on her last night, she thinks as she feels the soreness in her muscles, and she’s not mad.

Tissaia’s eyes drag down her body for a brief moment before she turns to toss the towel onto the bathroom counter.

“We can head to the studio around one or two, depending how long the interview runs, but hopefully sooner rather than later.” Yennefer leans back on her elbows and hums in acknowledgment. Tissaia’s eyebrows draw together ever so slightly. “Are you even listening?”

“Yeah, yes,” Yennefer sits back up. “Coffee, interview, studio, sounds fine.” She shifts so her legs hang off the side of the bed. “So, uh, to clarify, was last night a one time thing?”

“Yes,” Tissaia says without hesitation. 

“Got it. Ok, cool,” she nods. It’s not cool, but it can be. Stretches again, and ok, maybe she is teasing just a little at this point, because she can. “I actually have this idea, for one of the songs,” she starts with.

Tissaia interrupts her, “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.”

And Yennefer just. Well, she laughs.

Because it’s funny, this woman was screaming her name for a good part of last night, has probably had her mouth and hands on most of what she can see, and she’s asking Yennefer to put on some underwear.

She puts her hands on her thighs and then stands up slowly.

“Or you could just talk to me while I shower,” Yennefer suggests.

Tissaia turns away from Yen and towards her suitcase. “I think I’ll just get the coffees and save us time.”

*

The interview is a success, but Tissaia was right, their coffee was shit. 

  
  


*

She’s on her own for a few days while Tissaia is off handling some more interviews and meetings. Yennefer writes some songs in the hotel room. Parties at night. 

Gets a text message from her ex.

_Geralt wants me to meet him before his next show._ She texts Tissaia, because she’s in charge of her flights and hotels, and she wants to see him again.

Then there’s a phone call. And she gets excited for a second, thinking it’s Geralt, but no, it’s Tissaia.

She shouldn’t pick up, she shouldn’t pick up, because she _knows_ what she’s gonna say, but she does anyway.

“Stop talking to him,” Tissaia says in lieu of a greeting. 

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Yennefer is exasperated. “You don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get? You keep running back when you could do so much better.”

“Really? Can I really? Do you see me Tissaia?” She motions, as though Tissaia can see her through the phone, does a widespread gesture. “No one else is gonna love me like this. He knows me at my worst, and I know him at his. We can get through this. I know. I just have to try harder.” 

“Give yourself a little more credit. He's not the only one that can love you, even like this. Just the only one you want to see.”

“Who Tissaia? Who? You? Have you ever even been in love? I can’t do this anymore. I can't. I can't keep being vulnerable for someone only to have them hurt me more. I...I’m tired. I’m just tired. And he’s the only one that makes me feel something.”

“You’re an idiot.” 

“Fuck you, Tissaia.”

“No, fuck you," and Tissaia always has that sound about her, like she's a little annoyed, but now she sounds full on furious. "Fuck you for thinking you’re the only person in this equation, fuck you for thinking no one else cares, you’re just letting yourself spiral and you don’t give a shit who you take down in your path. You’re not weak, Yennefer, you don’t need this guy to make you feel something because you only end up worse at the end of the day. Stop acting like a child and grow the fuck up.” 

She throws her phone at the wall.

*

She gets shit faced. 

It helps. A little. She can’t feel her heart breaking anymore, she just feels ok. Not great or anything, but ok. Like she’s not on the brink of fucking everything up beyond repair, like she isn’t just ignoring every good piece of advice she’s ever been given in favor of not hurting anymore. 

She’s got a tongue in her mouth that’s not hers, there’s a hand down her pants.

And it feels good. She’s just gonna feel good. 

She’ll be good. 

*

Except she’s not. 

At one point she gets so nauseous she actually vomits on the dance floor. She’s being ushered into a bathroom stall, she registers the hands at her neck, gathering up her hair, but they feel constricting, fuck, just let her throw up in her hair, it’s better than not being able to breathe, so she waves them off, shoves, screams, because she can’t breathe, she just needs them to get _out._ And then she’s just holding onto the toilet for dear life, and it smells like piss and vomit, she’s probably a real mess, and she wants to -

She wants to text Geralt. Wants him to tell her it’s ok, she’s fine, just a little drunk, a little worked up, but she’s gonna be fine.

Only her phone has a shattered screen and it’s too blurry to text, let alone figure out how to find his number to call, so she cries into the toilet seat, til there’s an impatient voice behind her asking if she’s done vomiting so they can piss, and she realizes there’s a whole line of angry people watching her and waiting for the toilet, so she mumbles a small “sorry” and gets up. 

This wasn’t fun after all.

*

Her driver walks her to the door, offers to walk her to her room, but she’s fine. She staggers into the elevator, breathes in and out as it hums and she counts the numbers going up, like the seconds she counts when she has an anxiety attack, but it stops at six, which is her floor, and that’s too short, she should count longer. 

She lets the doors close and she just stands there, breathing, in, out, in, staring at the red six above the door, as she counts in her head, thirty three, thirty four. 

The elevator lurches a little and the six turns to a five, then a four, and Yennefer realizes she’s gonna look like a fuckin weirdo, so when it stops at the first floor, she gets back out and takes the stairs up. 

*

For two flights, then realizes how much harder six flights is while drunk, so she gets on the elevator at the third floor and doesn’t look at the numbers this time. 

*

She enters the hotel room, doesn’t bother with the lights. Goes to the bathroom to clean up a little, and when she steps out, before she turns off the bathroom light, she can see someone on the couch. 

No one should be in here. Her heart leaps straight to her throat. 

But the person on the couch isn’t moving, they look asleep, and if they’re asleep, there’s no danger, right?

One, two, three. 

Takes a step closer, then another. 

Can see the dark hair now, the curve of her hip, and that’s _Tissaia_ on her hotel couch. 

Had — 

Did Tissaia come all the way here? For her?

“Tissaia?” she whispers, dares another step closer, but the woman is breathing steadily. 

Why didn’t she tell her she was coming? Yennefer pulls out her phone, grimaces at the spiderwebbed screen, and realizes, huh that’s a lot of missed calls, though she can’t read the exact number. 

Tissaia came. 

That — that makes Yennefer feel bad. Grateful. A bit warm, bit sad. She’s been here, waiting for her. And it’s past four in the morning now, but she fell asleep on the couch, waiting. 

For Yennefer. 

And Yennefer sits down, right there on the carpet in front of the couch. And as she sits in the darkness, somehow, somehow it feels a little bit better, because she’s there, even if she isn’t awake. She’s there. 

And Yennefer just —

She talks.

And talks, about their phone call, and when she threw her phone, which was a shit decision, and maybe Tissaia’s a little bit right, she is spiraling, she feels out of control but she doesn’t know how to stop it, and she cries, and then she’s fucking sobbing into her hands, and she’s scared she’s gonna wake Tissaia up, so she sits there, heaving into her hand, trying to be quiet for once. 

And she curls up on the floor, thinking about what it’d be like to have a normal life, one where she’s not a rockstar, but she’s just a girl. A normal girl, with a normal job, maybe retail, with a normal boyfriend or girlfriend, without so many people watching her, without everyone fawning over her and telling her how much they love her music. She thinks about coming home at the end of the day to cuddle with someone she loves and who actually loves her back. 

She starts to fall asleep, tears in the carpet. 

Feels a hand that combs softly through her hair. 

“The floor isn’t going to be very comfortable,” is murmured. 

“Bed too far,” she whispers in response, wondering just how much Tissaia has heard, how long she’s been awake. 

“Come up here.”

Tissaia shifts to make room, extends a hand to her, and she takes it, then lets it wrap around her and bring her closer, another tangles in her hair.

“Sorry. I stink,” she apologizes. 

“A little,” but the hands don’t move.

“I can — "

“Just go to sleep,” Tissaia soothes, and the hand in her hair resumes stroking. It’s so calming, and the alcohol in her veins and the fingers scraping her scalp bring her heart rate to a reasonable tempo, and she drifts off to sleep. 

She’ll be ok.

  
  
*


End file.
